


A Little Less "Sixteen Candles" a Little More "Touch Me"

by burninglikeabridge



Series: A Little Less "Sixteen Candles" [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Gen, M/M, also i took a lot of liberties with the whole academy thinf, because aos canon says they went to school together, because that's totally how they'd act about it, cause theres not a lot of references in canon for it so, drama queen Jim, i made some stuff up, moody brooding Bones, plus practically the entire crew is there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 05:59:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8238523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burninglikeabridge/pseuds/burninglikeabridge
Summary: Leonard McCoy just wants to go to school and become a doctor. But it's starting to get kind of difficult when this blonde guy won't stop bothering him all the time.-an Academy era fic including Friday night movie nights in Bones's room, lots of mournful pining, bad coffee and good friends.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Fall Out Boy's song. Please forgive me if my formatting is an eyesore, I write and post from my phone which doesn't make for a great final format. I've edited it myself, but if you find any weird typos laying around, please let me know.

Leonard McCoy doesn't consider himself to be very easily charmed.  
He's always turned down annoying advances, not that there's been an abundance of them. He's preferred to keep to himself, even among friends or potential friends. 

And for his handful of romantic encounters, they'd mostly been sloppy and unpleasant, save for a girl that he'd cared for a lot more than she had for him, and a boy that Leonard never actually talked to about it. 

These things really, truly don't affect him. 

He's driven towards his goals more than any social gratification, though his mother used to argue that he was simply shy.  
He wasn't; he could handle people when he felt like it.  
It's just that the feeling rarely struck him. 

Yet within seconds of laying eyes on this stranger, with his golden hair and his shining eyes and smile, he knows he's in for it. 

Leonard's minding his own business sitting on the front steps of the school, his PADD across his thighs.  
The guy spots Leonard from a ways away, they lock eyes for an awkward moment and it seems that the stranger's decided he's a good choice.  
He sits down without much grace next to Leonard, his knee showing through a slit in one side of his worn jeans.  
Leonard is still in uniform, though it's Friday afternoon, and wonders if this guy is even a student. 

"Hey there." The boy says. He's probably a year below Leonard, all tanned skin and lithe muscles and flashy smiles. He flashes one now.  
His eyes are a wicked blue, framed with long lashes and expressive eyebrows. His features are strong, but friendly.  
His white t shirt has a hole near the collar, and Leonard's eyes fix on it.  
He's more than a little good looking, but Leonard's not interested. He's really not.  
Not even when he turns to Leonard fully, and he can see a smattering of delicate freckles across his nose. Leonard's not a sucker for a lot of things, but freckles might be one of them. 

"Hey." He replies, then turns away, back to his notes, hoping the guy will take the hint. He's not in the mood to deal with this. 

"I'm Jim." A hand appears before Leonard's face, and after a moment's hesitation he takes it. It seems he's clearly not the type to take hints. Maybe Leonard will have to ignore him a little harder.  
The other boy grips his hand tightly, impossibly warm, and when they pull apart his fingers linger. 

"Leonard." He pulls his hand back. 

"Got a last name, Leonard?" Jim grins, and the way his voice slides purposefully over Leonard's name makes him squirm. He clears his throat. 

"McCoy." He frowns down at his PADD, wills himself not to look back up. 

"McCoy. Rugged, I like it." Jim moves to get something from his bag, and his shoulder bumps Leonard's, who moves an inch away. "You got a pen?"

"An ink pen? I don't really carry around antiques." Leonard raises an eyebrow. 

Jim laughs, and it's loud, one of those obnoxious, contagious laughs that even inspires Leonard to crack a smile for a split second.  
He recovers his frown by the time Jim turns back to him. 

"Do you got a last name?" 

"Sure I do. Got any gum?" Leonard shakes his head, and Jim shrugs. "You only have a PADD? You don't carry anything else with you?" 

"Just my bones."  
It takes him a moment, but Jim's face breaks into another smile, this one somehow softer. 

"Bones. I like that." He sounds thoughtful. 

"Uh, thanks." Leonard's annoyed with himself for the flush he can feel creeping up the back of his neck. 

"Can I call you that?" 

"What?" Leonard's frown deepens, but Jim is undeterred and leans even closer.  
Does this guy have no concept of personal space? He wonders. Not that his warmth pressing against his side is exactly unwelcome. Just... uncomfortable. 

"Bones." Jim clarifies. 

"It's weird." 

"I'm weird. And no offense, but Leonard is totally an outdated name. An old man's name." 

"Saying no offense doesn't make it not offensive. And I'm presuming Jim is actually short for James, which is also outdated." Leonard points out. 

Jim shrugs, but the soft smile still touches his mouth. Which also, coincidentally, looks pretty soft too. Not that Leonard cares. 

"I like your accent." Jim says, voice velvet. 

Leonard can tell when he's being flirted with, and he's pretty sure it's happening right now. But he's also pretty sure that this guy is just the type to flirt with any and everybody, without much meaning behind it. So he doesn't get his hopes up. 

"Thanks." He stares a hole into the ground. 

"It's subtle. Is it real?" Jim's finger pokes his ribs. 

Leonard's frown deepens, and he trains his eyes on a chipped spot on the pavement. 

"I'll take that as a yes. Cool. Where're you from?"  
Leonard shrugs, noncommittal. 

"Ah, a man of mystery, then." Jim winks, and Leonard most definately does not blush. It's just warm outside, and Jim is just irritating. 

"See you around, then, Bones?"  
Leonard hesitates for a moment, considers shrugging him off, or at the very least correcting his name. 

"Sure." He says instead, because Jim's bright eyes are boring into his and he's finding it kind of hard to hate him.  
It gets harder. 

 

~ ~ ~ 

 

Jim has taken to calling him Bones more than not, and to spending an abundance of his free time with him, too.  
Not that Leonard starts to like it or anything. The nickname or the forced friendship, that is. Certainly not Jim himself.  
Jim's even started turning up to his room every Friday night like clockwork, with blankets and new movies that Leonard's forced into:  
"Come on, Len! Bones! Seriously, this one will be good." 

Sometimes they are, sometimes they aren't.  
Leonard secretly doesn't mind either way.  
Maybe it's something to do with the way Jim always shares a blanket with him on the tiny dorm bed with their backs to the wall, hunched over a PADD.  
Their shoulders are pressed together nearly the whole time, unless Jim dramatically jumps at a jump scare, or leans over to reach for something.  
He talks through movies, but not the emotional scenes, which Leonard finds surprising, and calls him on it. 

"They're the best part!" Jim exclaims. "I know when to shut up. If I didn't keep quiet I'd miss all the good stuff." 

"Good stuff?" 

"Yeah, whatever. Plot and stuff." 

Leonard can't tell in the dim blue light, but he'd swear Jim's blushing.  
And Jim doesn't seem to care that Leonard frowns at him most of the time, he just keeps on smiling. 

 

~ ~ ~ 

 

After about two months, Leonard realizes that they're friends now.  
After two and a half, Jim smiles up at him, golden and shining, and Leonard realizes that he's passed the point of no return. 

 

~ ~ ~ 

 

Jim's finally managed to squirm his way into Bones's life, and he thinks it's a good fit for both of them.  
They share two classes, and more interests than Leonard will admit.  
Jim finds out that he's from Georgia, and moved away from home for some unknown reason to pursue a career in medical, which brought him to Starfleet.  
Jim also finds out that he's deathly terrified of both space and flying, which is what Starfleet is, but Bones won't explain why he still chose to enlist.  
Jim's good at helping him with his anatomy assignments, and Bones is insanely smart at everything, so Jim asks him for help on all of his assignments, even the ones he knows. Sometimes he even feigns being a whole lot stupider than he actually is. It's just that Bones looks so damn good when he's explaining physics. 

Jim thinks of movies to bring over, and practices charming things to say. 

Not that he thinks he needs practice, no, but Bones makes him feel a little out of his depth sometimes. 

He's always got bed head, yet he's particular about everything, from his uniform to his food to his work. Even when he's frowning at Jim, there's something warm shining in his eyes. Jim is convinced he's a lot more gentle than he wants to be percieved.  
Sometimes, Jim's a bit more flustered than he'd admit.  
It's that damn Southern accent, he swears. 

 

~ ~ ~ 

 

"Twenty questions."  
Jim and Leonard sit outside at a table in the courtyard across from one another.  
Jim's already eaten his sandwich, and asked for Leonard's, who gave the uneaten half to him after some grumbling. 

"What are you, twelve?" Leonard snorts, and takes Jim's juice without asking. Payback for the sandwich, he figures. If Jim even notices, he doesn't say so. 

"I am not twelve. Just trying to get to know the mysterious Leonard Bones McCoy." Jim talks with his mouth half full. It's not cute. Really, it isn't, Leonard thinks. 

"My middle name's not actually Bones. You know that, right?" 

"Sure, sure." He takes a bite, then looks like he's gotten a brilliant idea. Leonard's not sure he likes the look. "So what is it, then?" 

"What's yours?" 

"Tiberius." He says, without hesitation, like it's something he's fond of. 

"Not fair." Leonard shakes his head, takes a drink. "Yours is pretty good." 

"And yours? Enough with the suspense, Bones, c'mon." 

"It's Horatio." 

Jim seems to be considering if this fact is acceptable. He chews thoughtfully.

"It's terrible." Jim grins. "It's bad, Bones." 

"Thanks." 

"But I like it. Cause it's yours." Before Leonard can wonder exactly what the hell that's supposed to mean, Jim's moving on. "Now you ask me something." 

Leonard considers. Sure, there's plenty he'd like to know about Jim Kirk, but sitting here looking at him, Leonard is hard pressed to think of anything coherent outside of how Jim's eyes look at him. 

"What's your dream?" He blurts out. Nice one, Leonard. 

"What?" Jim straightens, sets his food down. 

"Like, what's your goal? Why Starfleet?" 

"Ah. Well. I don't know. Better than rotting in Iowa... out there, I can make a difference. You know? Help people, even. It's more than a ship, a crew. Out there I can mean something." 

It's not an answer Leonard was expecting to hear, and from the soft blush across Jim's face, not one he was really expecting to give. 

"That's... Jim, I gotta be honest, that's not what I was thinkin'." 

"Yeah, I know." Jim pokes at his sandwich. "Doesn't really fit the whole blonde floozy look I've got goin' on." 

"That's not what I meant." 

"I seem kinda shallow, probably."  
Yes, Leonard thinks. But Jim's frowning down at his plate now, and he thinks it'd be stupid to actually say aloud. Plus, yeah, Jim seems shallow, but he also seems impossibly deep and complicated in ways that Leonard can't understand yet. He wants to, though. 

"Nah." Leonard reassures. "Just don't seem like the existential type." 

"Well, I'm not. You're the one who's a nerd. You probably sleep in uniform." Jim's tone is lighter now, joking. Leonard takes it as a good sign. 

"Okay, now your next question." 

"So you're playing?" Jim's eyes light up. Leonard groans. 

"I guess." 

"What's yours?" Jim asks.

"My what?" 

"Your dream. Or whatever." 

"Oh." Leonard should've anticipated this. "Christ. I don't... I just want to help people. Heal people." 

"In space?" 

"Not my first choice. But... Starfleet's program is the best. And free. And it's a change of scenery." 

"A pretty big change. All the way from Georgia." Jim points out. "You want to be a doctor?" 

"A good one, hopefully." Leonard smiles softly. Jim returns it with an equally gentle smile, and Leonard looks away. 

"I bet you will be." 

"Yeah. Your turn." 

Jim looks like he's thinking hard, and then snaps his fingers. 

"Do you think I'm hot?" He grins. For all his thoughtfulness, he certainly manages to remain predictable. 

"That's your question? I'm keeping track, you know." Leonard ignores the way his heart rate picks up. 

"That's my question." Jim's smile is practically blinding, and his hair is in that state of perfect disarry that he loves so much. Leonard's answer is a big, shouting yes, of course, but he swallows that and clears his throat instead. 

"Sure, whatever. You're smoking hot. Scaldingly, skin meltingly hot. Happy?" Leonard tries to sound annoyed. 

"Gruesome, Bones." Jim wrinkles his nose, but smiles. "Fine, I'm happy. Go again." 

Leonard keeps the rest of his questions shallow. 

 

~ ~ ~ 

 

"Come on Bones!" 

"Absolutely not." 

Jim has to jog to catch up to Leonard, because he started walking away as soon Jim started talking. 

"Are you out of your goddamn mind?" Leonard asks him, stopping long enough for Jim to catch up.  
He steps into place in front of him, chest heaving once, his hair falling over his forehead. Leonard crosses his arms and reminds himself that he doesn't notice. 

Just like he doesn't notice the way Jim's whole face lights up when he gets an exciting and usually very stupid idea. 

"No! Yes. Maybe." Jim grins, and shrugs.  
Leonard raises an eyebrow. 

"It'll be fun."  
Leonard hates how good Jim looks when he's being stubborn. Or just being at all. 

"Fun? Getting kicked out of school is fun?" 

"Only if we get caught." Jim points out. 

"You're smart, Jim, but not smart enough to know when to quit." He huffs and turns, starts walking again.  
Jim is on his heels. 

"For me?" He says, and his tone is teasing but Leonard stiffens. 

"You can't just command me around like a puppy dog, Jim." He huffs. 

"Is that a yes I hear?" Jim's smile this time is a little crooked. Cocky. 

"Not unless you're going deaf." 

"It's just a couple of innocent pranks, Bones."  
Leonard won't admit that the nickname's grown on him.  
Or that Jim has.  
He's silent for a few beats. He lets out a slow breath that Jim must interpret as defeat. 

"So you're in, then?" 

"I don't know why I'm friends with you." 

"Ha! So you admit it then, I am your friend."  
Leonard rolls his eyes. 

"If constant complaining and badgering counts as friendship." 

"You're the one who complains like it's your job." 

"Maybe it is, I'm pretty good at it." 

"Yeah, you're good." Jim's tone is kind of strange when he says it. They've reached the door to Leonard's dorm room. 

"This is me." He says, and it sounds stupid because they both know that already. 

"This is you." Jim agrees, voice weirdly soft.  
It makes Leonard's heart jump a bit, though he himself doesn't know why.  
Jim leans against the doorframe, and he looks sort of dumb because Leonard knows it's probably digging into his shoulder, yet somehow Jim gives off the impression of comfortable lounging anyways. 

"Seriously, I think it would be fun for both of us. Do you some good." 

"Don't you already-" Leonard cuts himself off. 'Don't you already do enough to me?' sounds dangerously close to a request for Jim to maybe do something else to him, which is something Leonard's definately thought about and definately not willing to talk about.  
Jim, the oblivious idiot, just softly smiles. 

"Want to hangout later?" He asks, shifting his feet and watching them like it's much more entertaining than keeping up eye contact with Leonard. It probably is. 

"Uh, I don't know," He blurts out, casting his eyes up, in silent prayer that he won't say anything stupid.  
"I've got... a lot of studying to catch up on. Anatomy. And stuff." 

"Anatomy and stuff." Jim looks up at him, blinks. He looks hurt for a second, but covers it up with another easy smile.  
He's always wearing that damn smile. 

"Okay, that's cool." He says, and Leonard nods. "I'll just see you tomorrow, then."  
Jim turns to leave, and Leonard takes a deep breath. 

"Jim?" 

"Yeah?" His head snaps back to look at Leonard as soon as he hears his name, like maybe he was anticipating it. 

"Be careful planning that prank." 

Jim turns on his best smile then, and Leonard's heart skips.  
He has to punch in the keycode for his door twice because his hands betray him with their trembling. 

 

~ ~ ~ 

 

It turns out Jim was serious about the prank.  
And it ended up involving a bucket of paint, and the wrong person walking through the wrong room.  
Someone who turned out to be a very unhappy Professor.  
So they were promptly caught, and even Jim's charms couldn't save them. 

This is how Leonard McCoy, who's not exactly a saint but has come close in his previous academic records, ends up with a three day suspension. 

"No, Jim. I'm pissed at you."  
He sighs into the communicator. He hears Jim shuffle on the other line, and then silence, and then a sniffle. 

"I said I was sorry. We aren't confined to our rooms, you know. Just come over, I'll make it up to you." Leonard's mind unhelpfully supplies several ideas of just how Jim Kirk might make it up to him. He frowns, feeling stupid even over the phone. 

"I'm confining myself." 

"Boooones." Leonard can almost imagine him, laying on his back on his bed, sprawled out and fidgeting, restless. Maybe even shirtless, if his imagination gets away from him. 

"Just go to sleep." Leonard rubs his eye with his free hand. 

"It's not even late." Jim groans. "It's barely even dark." 

"Then just go bother somebody else." He must convey his annoyance pretty clearly in his tone, because Jim falls silent for a second. 

"I'm sorry, Bones."  
It's far from what Leonard's expecting to hear, a genuine apology, and it takes him a second to register the words and another to register the meaning. 

"I know." He says, soft. He hears Jim sigh. 

"Just. Come over, please. We can watch a movie. I'm bored." Jim sounds so sincere that Leonard's chest tightens, despite his attempt to remain detatched. 

"No paint?"  
He can practically hear Jim crack a smile. He can certainly picture it, how it always lights up his whole face and the whole room and even Leonard's goddamn heart. 

"No paint. Just me, you, and a movie."  
It is, of course, an offer that Leonard doesn't have the heart to refuse. 

 

~ ~ ~ 

 

Jim's sleeping when he hears a faint sound that his sleeping brain barely registers as a voice.  
It takes him a few moments to regain full functional consiousness, and he's stumbling out of bed.  
He keeps his eyes closed until he reaches the bathroom. 

"Jim."  
The voice comes from outside.  
He's now certain that he's really hearing it, and it's not just echoes of his very vivid dream about a specific someone that he's starting to know a bit too well. 

"Jim."  
As fate would have it, it's Bones who is right outside his door.  
Irony is a force that Jim knows all too well by now. He turns on the sink. 

"Jim." The voice is more insistent this time. 

"Bones," Jim responds. He runs his hands through his hair and blinks a few times to liven up. Not that Bones cares how he looks, of course. 

"Coming." Jim says, and moves to open the door. 

"Thought I'd make sure you actually do the homework."  
There's times when Bones's voice really teeters on the edge between accent and no accent, and there's times when Jim can hear it.  
Certain words seem to catch it; words like actually and goddamn and sometimes, if he's lucky, even Jim.  
Jim notices all of them. 

In fact, he mentally notes and lists them, in neat and perfect order inside his Bones-obsessed brain.  
He adds these ones to the file.  
Bones is standing with a PADD in one hand and a paper bag in the other. 

He looks sweet, almost earnest for a moment. Jim would swear that his expression is something akin to nervousness, but when Jim meets his eyes, his face turns flat. 

"You woke me up." Jim blurts out, and something else crosses Bones's face, but it's gone before Jim can decide what it is. 

"Sorry. But it's like, four in the afternoon, Jim." Bones looks slightly confused, and unsure of whether he should stay or not.  
Jim rubs the back of his neck, clears his throat. 

"I was asleep." He repeats dumbly. His voice is rough with sleep, and he rubs his eyes again. 

"I brought food." Bones adds, as if Jim wouldn't let him in without offerings. As if Jim wouldn't let him in for anything.  
Bones looks sort of awkward now, standing in his doorway, hands full and feet shifting. His eyes are roaming past Jim, into his room, scanning over all of his stuff.  
And by stuff, Jim's referring to the mess of laundry, abandoned coffee mugs, and the unmade bed he's just rolled out of. 

Bones raises an eyebrow.  
Jim grins and steps aside, gesturing for Bones to come in. Bones sets both items on the table, and sits. 

He's dressed in a blue Starfleet shirt and worn jeans and sneakers.  
Jim secretly loves it when he's in anything but their standard uniforms; it feels like he's seeing him so differently. Not to mention how good he looks.  
There's something softer about Bones without the done up collar and the shiny shoes. He looks much more down to earth, and it's easier for Jim to imagine the sweet southern boy he might've been before he came to the Academy at all.  
Bones clears his throat, opens the program on his PADD. 

"I always do the homework." Jim frowns.  
Bones snorts. 

"If I hold your hand."  
Jim ignores the way his own skin flushes warm at the idea, and feigns a small laugh. 

"Maybe I just like your insight." He says.  
Jim slides into the seat across from him and reaches for the bag. 

"Cookies. Nice choice." 

"Figured you'd eat anything edible. Easily impressed."

"Not easily impressed," Jim says, mouth already full, "Simply..." He swallows. "Grateful." 

"Is that what it is." Bones mumbles to the PADD on the table. 

"Surprised you aren't trying to force me into another salad." He wrinkles his nose, recounting the three times Bones has forced him into health foods. 

"Health is important, Jim." 

He looks so serious then, not even looking up at Jim because he's too busy, eyebrows drawn, hair always mussed.  
And his words are always sincere, even when laced with sarcasm, his  
good intent always seems to be there.  
Jim bites the inside of his cheek for a second to bring himself back to the present. 

"Yeah, but at what cost?" Jim teases, ignores how much warmer Bones makes the room seem. 

"The mess hall is free." Bones retorts, but Jim swears his mouth almost twitches into an almost smile. 

"Personal cost, then." Jim turns on his most charming smile, but Bones looks utterly unaffected. He always does. Jim rarely even makes him squirm. 

"Will you shut up and get your PADD so we can start this?" Bones's eyes roll. 

"Fine, fine." Jim turns and reaches over to the bed where he set it earlier. When he turns back to the table, Bones is watching him, his expression unreadable.  
There's something in the air in that moment that Jim can't decipher, but it passes before he has any real chance to consider it.  
Bones is looking down again, and it's just Jim and his racing heart. 

"So," Bones starts, before carefully phrasing the homework question aloud.  
Jim nods, swallows thickly and asks him to repeat it.  
He rolls his eyes, but does, and finally Jim answers.  
He's wrong, and Bones takes pleasure in correcting him. Maybe a little too much. 

"Well, if you stared at the professor instead of the girl in front of you, then maybe you'd have known." 

"I do stare at the professor," Jim argues. "He's hot, too." Jim cracks a smile. 

Bones, for a reason Jim can't understand, flushes and buries his face in his work again.  
The rest of Bones's visit passes pleasantly. And if Jim's sweating a little more than usual, it's probably just the weather. 

 

~ ~ ~ 

 

"Hey, handsome." 

Jim leans into the wall behind Leonard, who's face is buried in work, as usual.  
His tone is only teasing, but Leonard's body betrays him by flushing with warmth anyways.  
Jim's a bit too close for comfort, like he always is. 

Leonard had thought the library might be the one place he'd be free of Jim's presence long enought to actually study for his Biology final.  
It's clear now that he was wrong.  
He seems to never be fully free of him, especially since he spends all his actual alone time daydreaming about him.  
Yet it's the best thing he feels.  
He pretends not to notice Jim, until it becomes apparent that he's going to invade Leonard's space until he acknowledges him.

"Jim."

He's become quite good at pretending like Jim's sunshiney presence has no effect on him. As long as he doesn't breathe, look at him, or actually think of him when they're in close proximity, he does a pretty damn good job.  
He sometimes swears that he deserves some kind of award for his acting. Especially when Jim shows up in one of his exceptionally tight T shirts, or when he's so clearly just come from a hookup, his face still flushed, lips bitten and hair mussed.  
Those are the times when Leonard's pretty damn sure he's outacting even the professionals. 

"I like the haircut." Jim's using his special charming voice, one Leonard hears often, usually directed at pretty girls or professors that Jim needs a grade from. It's quite effective.  
Here, Leonard is certain he's using it in sarcasm.  
That doesn't make it any less effective, of course. 

"Thanks. Can you like it from over there, please?" He says dryly. He's proud of himself; his voice doesn't waver or crack. 

Jim appears undeterred, and even shifts an inch closer. Leonard looks up.  
And there it is, the object of all his affections, desires, dreams that he keeps strictly to himself.  
Jim is all bright blue eyes, gentle watercolor up close, his soft pink mouth turned in a crooked smile, and he has that damn dusting of soft freckles across his nose.  
Leonard wants nothing more than to kiss his smugness away. He swallows. 

"You, uh..." Jim's smile falters, and he steps away. "Look tired. You okay?" He clears his throat. 

"I'm fine." His voice is rushed, and he stared pointedly at the floor until Jim puts a few feet between them. 

"You work yourself too hard."  
Jim's back to his easy banter, leaning back against the table.  
He always looks way too comfortably anywhere he is.  
And way too good, it's a crime.  
His jacket falls open at his sides, sliding lazily off one shoulder. His black undershirt is a size smaller than regulation, but Leonard can't call him on it without admitting that he's noticed how it clings to Jim's form.  
He tears his eyes away. 

"And you give yourself too much slack," Leonard returns.  
Jim shrugs. 

"Also, the whole uniform thing isn't really optional." He gestures vaguely in Jim's direction without looking. 

"I'm wearing it." Jim points out. 

"Barely." 

"It's on my body." 

"Whatever."  
Jim, mock offended, clutches his chest. 

"Will nothing I do ever please you, almighty Bones?"  
Leonard hesitates, choosing his words carefully. 

"Leaving me alone would be very pleasing."  
Jim pouts. 

He wears it well, just like he wears everything. 

"You'd be lost without me."  
It's a joke, and even his tone is teasing, but it hits Leonard in his chest and his breath catches. 

"I was fine before you came along." He points out, heart thudding against his ribs. 

"You were grumpy." Jim pushes himself up to be sitting on the table, swings his feet.  
He looks juvenile, like a child who knows they're breaking the cardinal rule of sitting on the table, and he even wears the shit-eating grin.  
Leonard still wants to touch him. 

"Still am." He emphasizes his claim with a frown. 

"Come sit by me." Jim waves him over. 

"I'm fine here." 

"Standing like that's gonna kink your neck." Jim points out, and he's right, and Leonard hates him for it.  
Leonard obliges after a moment's hesitation, just to prove that Jim doesn't control him, and sits in the chair next to where Jim sits up on the table. 

"Better." Jim says, smiling down at him.  
Jim's foot bumps his leg, and Leonard quickly shuffles away. 

"Debatable."  
But as Leonard looks up at him, he'd swear Jim's somehow glowing even in the dim, unflattering library lighting. A strand of hair falls into his face as he tilts his head, and that damning perpetual smile lights up his whole face.  
Better? Definately a better view. 

"Want to go for dinner?" Jim picks up the paperweight from the table behind him. It's glass, shaped like a cube. He examines it in one hand as if it's much more interesting than Leonard. 

"Asking me out, Kirk?" Leonard quirks an eyebrow. And he's definately not sweating. 

"In your dreams, McCoy." But Jim's cocky smile hasn't left his face, and Leonard wonders if he asked right now, for it to really be a date, would Jim actually indulge him? 

But before he can test the waters, Jim's hopping down, plucking the PADD from Leonard's hands and tugging him to his feet by his shoulders. 

"Let's go." 

"Who says I'm going?" Leonard tries to act annoyed, but the ghost sensation of Jim's hands roughly grabbing at him make it kind of difficult. 

Jim has started walking a few beats ahead of him, and when he turns to toss a brilliant smile over one shoulder, Leonard wonders who he's fooling. 

"Aren't you?" Jim says, like he knows what Leonard's thinking.

And because Leonard would be an absolute idiot not to follow, he does. 

 

~ ~ ~ 

 

Jim and Leonard sit across from each other at the table in Leonard's room. 

Jim is cross legged in his chair- how, Leonard's not quite sure. He tries to refrain from thinking about how Jim manipulates his own body, as a general rule for his own sanity. 

Jim sputters and coughs for a moment, eyes wide.  
He's picked up Leonard's mug by mistake, probably due to the exhaustion of their night spent up studying. Mostly up. Leonard's pretty sure they both passed out before dawn. 

"Is this acid?" He croaks out.  
He actually spits some into his hand, which is unneccessary; the coffee might be bitter but it's gone lukewarm by now. 

Leonard stifles a laugh, and Jim presses his hand to his chest and coughs again. 

"Oh god, I'm dying." His chest heaves a few more times for effect. 

"You are a drama queen." Leonard declares, leaning in to grab his cup from in front of a very flushed, very good looking Jim. 

"You're a murderer." Jim accuses. He stands and walks to the sink. 

"Attempted murderer. Trying to kill me with horrible, deadly, poison coffee." He rinses off his hands, scowls into the sink. 

"Not everyone likes to drink syrup first thing in the morning." Leonard hides his smile in his mug. 

"It's just a little flavor." Jim argues, hands seeking out his own warm cup as he sits back down. He takes a sip and sighs, content. "This is coffee." He points at the cup Leonard now brings to his lips. 

"That is hell. Disgusting hell. Of course you would like it. You like suffering." 

"Keep your mouth off it, then." He keeps his tone sharp to convey annoyance. He takes extra care to sound mean, rather than sound like he thinks about or cares about Jim's mouth or what he does with it. 

"I'll try." Jim says, pretends to sound serious. "Hey, Bones?"  
Leonard makes a muffled sound of acknowledgment through his coffee. 

"This sleepover was fun. Let's do it again sometime." 

"This was not a sleepover. Not the kind you have." Leonard scowls over his mug.  
Jim returns his frown. 

"Yes, it was. I slept. Over. Here." Jim articulates, counting out his words on one hand as if they're individual facts rather than syllables. 

"It was a partial all-nighter for studying."  
Jim ignores him. 

"You snore horribly, you know that?" He leans his elbows on the table to smirk at Leonard on the other side. 

"I do not!" Leonard's certain Jim was asleep before him, anyways. Not that he creepily stared at him, or anything, no. He just happened to be there, and Leonard just happened to be consious. 

"You do." Jim muses, takes a drink. He runs his tongue over his lips as he sets his cup down.  
Leonard is too tired to pretend he doesn't follow the movement. 

"You talk in your sleep." Leonard counters, and Jim rolls his eyes. 

"Please, McCoy, be a little more creative. Think I've had enough bedside partners that someone would've clued me in on nighttime dialogue." 

Leonard sucks in a breath, and chokes on his coffee. It takes him a solid thirty seconds of coughing before he's sure he can even breathe, let alone speak.  
Jim stares at him. 

"So, you're saying that you're slutty, so everyone would know if you sleep-talked?" He says, slow. He hopes his tone comes across at least mildly teasing, though he can't be certain with the faint ringing in his ears. 

He must fail spectacularly because Jim's expression has hardened, both hands steadily gripping his mug like he might either break it or throw it. 

Leonard doesn't understand what he's said that was so wrong. 

"Right. Exactly." Jim snaps. His fingers twitch. "Anyone and everyone would know." 

"Whoa, Jim, I-" 

"I know what you thought." Jim stares down into his cup. 

"You said it." Leonard argues, but Jim's shaking his head. 

Jim moves to stand, grabs his jacket from the back of the chair. He holds it in white knuckled hands. 

"I'm sorry, Bones." But he doesn't sound sorry. He sounds pissed. He's slipping into the jacket, turning to pick up his other stuff. 

"I don't normally stick around for breakfast. So, see you around." He adds, smiling now. The smile and the words feel hollow. Leonard aches to reach out for him in some way, but he stays still and watches him go. 

I don't normally stick around for breakfast, Leonard thinks. 

He frowns.  
He's not sure why Jim's so offended at the idea of his own promiscuity, that they've joked about plenty of time before, that he himself claims he's famous for.  
Leonard knows a lot of his reputation is just rumor, but he's also seen Jim come twenty minutes late to class in someone else's shirt more than once.  
So why would Jim get so damn jumpy?  
It's not like anything actually happened between them last night. 

Save for their usual bickering, some frustrating studying, a couple of coffee intervals and eventually, they both fell asleep.  
Jim on the bed, and Leonard on the floor up against it.  
It's not as if Leonard is some hookup stepping out of bounds. They're just friends.  
He sits alone and frowns down into his coffee.  
The next drink does taste a little like acid. 

 

~ ~ ~ 

 

They've both taken to walking into each other's rooms at given times during the day; after their last class is one of those times.  
It's not usually an invasion of privacy, as its an unspoken agreement between the two. 

Today, Jim is simply following this routine when he keys the code into Bones's door and steps inside. 

"Hey, Bones, I-"  
He falters when he walks fully into the room.  
Bones is there, his back to the door. He hasn't realized he's not alone yet. 

Bones tugs his shirt over his head, and Jim chokes.  
He tries to cover the strangled sound with a cough that sounds equally shocked and loud in the still room. 

Bones freezes.  
The cough makes Bones turn to look at him, and when he realizes Jim is there a few things happen at once. 

First, Jim stares.  
He looks ridiculously good for someone who's just been caught changing.  
Jim himself is usually tripping over his jeans, blindly fumbling for clean clothes.  
But Bones's cheeks are ruddy, his eyes wide; he's surprised. If Jim were the artsy type, he thinks he'd definately want to take a picture. Bones looks that much like a work of art.  
Hell, he kind of wants to take one anyways. And frame it, maybe.  
It's rare that Jim catches Bones doing anything but frowning, and hell if he doesn't look that much better because of the rarity of it.  
He looks young, his features much less severe without his perpetual scowl. Even from across the room, Jim can see his soft mouth, his kind eyes. 

He looks beautiful. 

And shirtless. He's very much shirtless. Jim's brain is a bit too inarticulate right now to catalogue much else but the fact of his nakedness. 

What happens second is, Bones swears under his breath, and Jim flushes what he's sure is an unnattractive shade of red.  
Then Bones's face turns into a scowl as he turns away again. 

"You could knock." Bones leans over, picks up a shirt. 

"And miss the show?" Jim hopes it comes out teasing, because he can't really hear with the pounding in his ears. 

Bones makes a sound like something between a laugh and a huff. He pulls the shirt on, and Jim lets out the breath he didn't realize he was holding. 

So what if Bones is insanely hot, Jim thinks. It's no big deal, and he can handle himself. He's had hot friends before. Granted, half of them he actually ended up sleeping with. And then never speaking to again.  
No big deal.  
And if he's already memorized the patterns of freckles across his back and shoulders, that's probably not a big deal, either. 

"Ready to go to lunch?" 

"It's five o'clock." Bones grumbles. 

"Dinner, then." This time when Jim smiles, it feels like it's choking him. 

 

~ ~ ~

 

Leonard really doesn't know why he does all this. 

Well, he knows why but he doesn't understand why. 

He tolerates Jim's ridiculous requests, his late night stormings of Leonard's room, and all of his stupid assignment questions that Leonard's pretty sure he already knows. Because they're supposed to be friends. 

But he doesn't get why he puts himself through the absolute torture of having Jim just an arms length away when just this morning he woke up from a fitful dream about his warm hands.  
It would be much easier to just hole himself up in his room alone until he willed himself to eventually forget about all of it. Of course, doing that meant he'd never be in Jim's warm presence again. And Leonard honestly can't imagine anything worse than that. 

Leonard knows, deep down, that there's nowhere he'd rather be than here, with Jim sprawled on his bed like it's his own, asking stupid questions with such false sincerity that Leonard almost falls for it a couple times. 

"Jim, I know you know this." 

"But you explain it so much better than I do!" Jim rests his head in his hands, faces Leonard where he sits in a chair beside the bed. 

"Yeah, cause I know it. You let me explain it. If you tried, you would explain it just fine too." 

"I do try." Jim frowns. "Repeat the question." 

Leonard sighs, turns off the PADD. 

"Why do you do this?"

"Hang out with my best friend in the universe?" Jim grins. 

"Pretend to be stupider than you are." Jim's face falls for a second, but he recovers lightning fast with an easy smirk. Leonard is unconvinced. 

"That's mean." Jim informs him. 

"It's true, isn't it?" 

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about." There's a bit of ice creeping into his voice.  
Leonard feels panic crawling up his throat. He swallows. 

"Jim, look." Jim does, right at him, and it makes Leonard's mouth dry. "I'm not trying to make you feel weird or anything." 

"Then don't." Jim breathes. 

"But I know you're smarter than this." Leonard tells him, and wills his face and voice to convey the honesty he wants it to. 

"Thanks for the faith, Bones." Jim turns his eyes to the blanket under him and picks at a thread with a frown. 

"I'm serious." Leonard leans forward enough to put a hand on Jim's arm. He's warm, and when he looks up, Leonard regrets it right away. He swallows. "Give yourself a little more credit, that's all." 

Jim is silent for a few beats before his expression softens, and he pulls back, sits up. 

"I know I'm not stupid. And so what if I know the material? I... just like studying with you, okay? It helps me... with the work." 

"Okay." Leonard tells him, and Jim pulls the PADD from Leonard's other hand and turns it back on. 

They're silent for a few minutes after that before Jim starts to read the questions aloud again.  
A while after that, they both breathe. 

 

~ ~ ~ 

 

They sit at lunch sometimes with a few other kids Leonard doesn't know all that well. 

There's Pavel, a bright eyed freshman with curly hair and an accent that sometimes gets the better of him. Leonard later identifies it as Russian.  
He's younger than everyone, but smarter than he gets credit for, Leonard thinks.  
Then there's Hikaru Sulu, with strong features and just as strong of a presence, and his gentler counterpart, Ben.  
Ben chats animatedly with Hikaru about some kind of plant he's started growing in his room. Hikaru watches him with an adoration that Leonard sure hopes Ben sees, too.  
Leonard likes them all just fine, but it's Nyota Uhura and her roommate Gaila that everyone, himself included, seems to be enamoured with. They're easily the most commanding presence in the group, but both manage it without being overbearing. 

Jim flirts with them both, mostly just friendly, Nyota shutting down his advances with practiced ease, and Gaila simply giggling, until it becomes clear to their entire table that Nyota and Gaila are more than roommates, and that the hands they lace together under the table are a bit more than platonic. 

Nyota is almost unbelievably impressive, with her extensive knowledge of xenolinguistics and her capacity to chat with both Gaila and Chekov in their respective native languages, while still maintaining a kindness about her that's somehow simutaneously untouchable and also comforting. 

Gaila is much more down to earth, though she's the one with the green skin. She laughs at everyone's jokes and tells quite a few of her own. She even coaxes a few genuine laughs from Leonard.  
There's something about her presence, the way her curls bounce when she leans over excitedly to tell a story, or to listen to someone else's. She's friendly, and exudes some of the same charm that Jim's so expert at. 

Today, Jim sits between Leonard and Nyota, his knee knocking Leonard's unintentially, but pays most of his attention to Ben, who's telling him a story across the table that he seems to be pretty into. Leonard catches a few lines of it, but doesn't bother actively joining or listening. He's content to sit and eat his sandwich in pleasant silence. 

At some point, Nyota's tugging Leonard away from the table by the back of his jacket, and Leonard follows. 

"What the hell is going on?" She demands. Her ponytail swishes behind her, her chin perpetually tilted up in something between defiance and confidence. She's beautiful, but more than that she's the picture of strength. Leonard wouldn't dare defy her for anything. 

He darts a nervous look back to the table a few feet away, where both Jim and Gaila have noticed them, and are whispering to one another. Gaila wears a knowing smile. Leonard turns back to Nyota, who has her arms crossed and is scowling. 

"With Jim." 

"I don't..." 

"Gaila says he's been acting like a serious dick lately. More than regular Jim. She also says he was crying last week." 

"Gaila...?" Leonard repeats dumbly. Nyota rolls her eyes. 

"Yes, Gaila. They work together in their programming class." She raises an eyebrow. "Whatever. The point is, he was all torn up the other day, and all Gaila could get out of him was that it's about you." 

"Me?" Leonard squeaks. 

"Yes, you. Look, I know it seems like I don't care for Jim much and quite frankly," She looks past Leonard, presumably at Jim. "That used to be true. But these days, he's a friend to all of us. I do care about him." She softens. "And he's a mess lately." 

Now Leonard turns to look at Jim, who's absorbed in a conversation with Pavel, and both of them are gesturing widely. He can hear Jim's laugh. 

"Over... about me?" 

"Yeah, I think so. You should talk to him, Leonard." She says, sincere. 

"It's not really my... business." 

"I don't know if you're his closest friend, Leonard, but anyone with eyes can tell you're his favorite." Leonard flushes despite himself. "So stop being an idiot and tell Jim to stop being an idiot." 

"Uh. Okay." 

"Good." With that, Nyota turns and walks back to the table. Leonard follows, slower and less graceful. 

"What was that about?" Gaila asks, raising an eyebrow. Nyota pinches her arm as a warning, and she falls silent. 

Leonard considers her words. He wonders what exactly Jim said to Gaila to inspire Nyota to want to take action. Had he really been distraught? Over Leonard?  
He's fairly sure that Nyota and  
Gaila are simply misreading the situation, anyways. Jim has a tendency to be overdramatic, and also to overdrink. Leonard imagines that whatever he said to her was simply a bad mix of the two.  
The only thing he's totally certain of is that he's most definately not talking to Jim about any of it. 

There's an awkward tension in the air for a few moments until Hikaru cracks a joke, Ben chokes on his drink, and Pavel's soft, windchime laughter inspires everyone to smile. 

 

~ ~ ~ 

 

The next two times Leonard sees him, he tries to notice if Jim's distraught. 

He doesn't see any of the supposed inner tortment that Nyota warned him of, though.  
And if Jim secretly hates him, he's pretty damn good at hiding it. 

Jim smiles just as widely, tells Leonard just as many jokes, and annoys him plenty.  
There's only one time in the entire next week that Leonard catches him acting strangely at all.  
They're together in Leonard's room for their Friday night movie ritual, and Jim's against his side with a blanket as usual. 

"Hey, Bones?" He whispers, which is stupid because it's not even late, and they're alone. 

"Yeah?" Leonard whispers back, afraid to break whatever this moment is. Jim's looking down at his hands, frowning. It's not quite a McCoy Frown, that dominates his whole face, but it's a frown nonetheless. 

"Can I ask you something?" Leonard's heartrate picks up, but he swallows and responds. 

"Go for it." 

"Would you ever..." Jim shakes his head, looks up. "Nevermind, it's nothing." 

"If you... If you want to know, whatever it is, I'll tell you." 

Jim nods, as if to himself. He stares forward at their forgotten movie, like he's suddenly gotten interested again. Leonard mirrors his actions. 

He can't help but notice that their shoulders no longer touch. 

 

~ ~ ~ 

 

"And just telling him is out of the question?"  
Gaila and Jim lay across her floor, Jim's head pillowed on her thighs, her PADD in her hands above his head.  
She's been listening to him drone on about Bones for half an hour. 

She looks over the PADD at him, raises one perfect eyebrow. 

"Yes. No. I mean, I don't know." Jim frowns. "I'm not sure he's into guys. Frankly, Gaila, I'm barely sure he likes me as a friend." 

Gaila sighs, turns her PADD off and sets it aside. She brushes a strand of hair from Jim's forehead. 

"You were a wreck last week." 

"I was drunk last week. Please clarify." 

"I talked to Nyota, and she agrees with me." 

"You told your girlfriend? Great, now everybody knows about my big stupid crush. You wanna broadcast it, too?" Jim groans. 

"She's your friend too. Also, relax. You're an adult. Nobody's passing notes during recess." Gaila defends. "Jim, you had tears in your eyes and everything." 

"I did not!" 

"You did, I was there. You totally looked like a lovesick puppy. Absolutely pathetic, Kirk. I know the guy's good looking, but you aren't one to get hung up. It must be serious." 

"If you're just gonna bully me, I'll go." 

"I am not," Gaila moves to stretch, and Jim sits up and scoots next to her. "Bullying you. I'm just trying to help." 

"Help by putting me out of my misery." Jim jokes, but it's halfhearted. 

"I think you should talk to him." 

"And tell him what? He doesn't give two shits about me, honestly, Gaila. He probably won't even notice if I disappear." 

"I'd beg to differ. Do you see him looking at you?" 

"Frowning at me," Jim corrects. Gaila rolls her eyes. "Scowling." 

"He probably likes you back. You're kind of pretty. And nice when you try." 

"I'm practically gorgeous," Jim grins. 

"Don't get cocky, Kirk." But she smiles back. Nyota walks in then, and she promptly rolls her eyes at them. 

"Why is it that you two never seem to be doing actual homework?" She asks, but she wears a light smile. 

She sets her bag down on her bed and crosses over to where they sit up against the bed on the floor.  
She herself sits on it, and swoops gracefully down to catch Gaila's mouth in a soft kiss.  
Jim whistles. 

"Why are you here, again?" Nyota asks, but she's still smiling. 

"Emotional support? No, homework?" Jim offers, and she rolls her eyes again. Gaila is grinning wolfishly and eyeing Nyota, so Jim takes that as his signal to leave. 

"Jim?" Gaila calls when he reaches the door. 

"Yeah?" 

"Just tell him, you big baby."  
Jim most certainly doesn't blush, and he also doesn't trip out the door. 

 

~ ~ ~ 

 

"Jim Kirk, you are officially the biggest dumbass on campus." 

Bones tilts Jim's head back with deft, careful fingers. He frowns, deeper than usual, as his eyes scan Jim's injuries.  
He mutters something about Jim being dumb enough to get into a fight within an hour of being in a bar. 

He shines a light into Jim's eyes, runs fingers across Jim's nose. He swears under his breath twice. Jim tries to avoid wincing. 

"You're damn lucky your nose isn't broken, Jim." 

"Can't damage the goods." Jim replies. He coughs, and it wracks his whole body, and Bones's face lights up with brand new concern. 

"You're an idiot." 

"C'mon, Bones, the guy was a creep." Jim slurs through a split lip and a grin, despite the fact that it burns. 

He's still buzzing with alcohol and adrenaline from the fight, and his skin lights up wherever Bones touches him. 

"I know. I was there. Keep your head back," He instructs, and so Jim does, looking down his nose at him. "And hold this here." 

Bones presses a towel into Jim's less injured hand, and shoves it up against his nose to stem the bleeding. It hurts, but not as bad as the initial blow had.  
Jim holds it there steady for a moment. 

"I couldn't just let him feel up Uhura!" His voice is muffled through the towel. Bones shakes his head, looking down, though Jim catches the hint of a smile at his mouth. 

Not that she hadn't had it completely under control; she'd already had the guy halfway in a headlock. But when he'd reared back, as if to hit her, Jim was promptly blinded by rage, and hauled the guy off by his shirt. He got in three solid punches before the other guy even hit back. 

As these things go, he was bigger than Jim, and evidently meaner. It took three of Jim's friends to get him off, but not before the significant damage was done. 

"I know, Jim." 

He watches Bones turn and shuffle through his med kit. Jim has no right to think he looks good doing this, and yet his brain unhelpfully supplies him with all the appropriate adjectives to describe just how Bones's practiced hands and concentrated expression look. 

"Christ, Jim." He mumbles to himself.

When he turns back, Jim makes sure to press the towel against his nose exactly the way Bones held it. It stings.  
His efforts are pointless, anyways, because Bones pulls his hand away by his wrist when he turns back to him. 

"Sit still." He instructs. 

Jim does, and Bones waves a scanner over his face.  
Jim watches Bones's face, his transfixed on Jim. He looks sad.  
He sets the scanner on the bathroom counter and sighs. 

"You kill me, Kirk." 

"And you save me, Bones." Jim smiles again, then winces. Worry flits across Bones's face at that, and Jim's chest aches for a reason entirely apart from his fight. 

After a moment, Bones leans down again to wipe the blood from Jim's mouth with something that stings. Jim stares at him, open mouthed, and he's just inches away, and Jim's breath hitches. Bones has to notice; his hands are right on Jim's mouth, but if he does, he doesn't mention it. 

Bones looks good up close. Jim can see every freckle, every eyelash, every line of his features, the way his face contorts in concentration, or concern. He wears both of those expressions at once now, and he's got it firmly fixed on Jim. It's kind of overwhelming, and it pains him beyond any of his physical injury. 

"Thanks." Jim breathes when Bones pulls away. "But I could do all that." He points out. 

"Shut the hell up." Bones snaps. He picks up Jim's right hand and another antiseptic.  
Jim's hand is limp in his, but Bones's grip is firm, though Jim reminds himself it's strictly clinical. He's warm and comforting in ways that Jim can't even explain to himself.  
He barely feels the stinging on his knuckles. 

"Jim, you're crazy. And stupid. And crazy." He sounds exhausted, and won't meet Jim's eyes. 

"You said crazy twice." 

"I know." 

Jim is silent for a moment. Bones examines his hand, feels over each finger, each bone. Checking for breaks, for further injury. 

"I'm not even qualified for this shit." Bones points out, pulling out a bandage to wrap around Jim's hand. 

"Don't need that." But Jim flinches when Bones starts wrapping his fingers, and Bones raises an eyebrow. "And you are qualified. You're a doctor." 

"Medical student." Bones pinches the bridge of his nose with one hand, and Jim can practically see him developing a headache. 

"But you'll make a great doctor. See? You're getting all this practice." Jim offers a small smile, but Bones just looks stressed and tired when he looks back up at him. 

"I don't want to practice like this. Not on you." Bones sounds hurt, and Jim's confused. He clears his throat. 

"I'm not gonna say I'm sorry for doing it." 

"I know you're not." 

"Cause like, I'm not sorry. He deserved it." Jim explains. 

"And you deserved the seven punches he landed on you after that? Before me and Sulu and Gaila hauled him off?" Jim's mouth is suddenly dry. 

He recalls how Hikaru ended up inadvertently taking an elbow to the stomach, and how Gaila probably has a nasty bruise from being pushed back into the table. He doesn't really remember Bones being there exactly, but the room was spinning by then, and someone must have pulled Hikaru back. 

"You counted?" Jim's mouth is open in surprise, and Bones winces. 

"Yeah, Jim. I counted." Bones looks pained, and he stares down into his medical kit. "How could I not?" 

"I just... I... I didn't mean to stir up shit. Or for any of you guys to get hurt. I'm sorry for that." Jim sniffles, his nose feeling sticky and unpleasant. His head has started throbbing now that the adrenaline has started to wear off.  
"Did you get hurt?" Jim feels panic rising in his chest. 

"It's not... I'm fine. I just don't like seeing you get the shit kicked out of you, okay?" Bones throws up his hands in exasperation. "You're my... friend." 

"Okay." Jim says. He feels small now, with Bones just standing there over him. He stands directly in front of where he sits on the edge of the bathtub. If Jim reaches his hands out, they'll be at Bones's thighs. He doesn't. 

"I'm gonna give you a painkiller. Not that you deserve one." 

"But you're gonna give it to me? Because you're secretly nice and sweet?" 

"Something like that." Bones grumbles, loads up a hypo needle. Jim flinches when he injects it in his neck, but stays silent. The relief is almost instant; he feels fuzzy all over. 

"Thanks." Jim rubs at his neck. 

Bones fills a cup with water and hands it to him. He sips it slowly, his mouth tasting bitter, of blood and alcohol. Bones watches him intently. 

"Sleep here. I want to keep you here under observation for the concussion." Jim sits up straighter, ignoring the protests shooting up his back, and sets his glass on the bathroom counter. 

"I doubt I have a conc-" 

"I watched it. I watched him slam your head against a table, Jim." Bones's voice has taken on that grave tone again, and Jim swallows. The admission hangs heavy between them, and Jim feels guilty. 

"Anyways, I'm the doctor, remember?" His tone is a bit lighter. 

"Medical student," Jim corrects. Bones hesitates for a second, and smiles, warmly. Jim thinks that maybe Bones accidentally dosed him too high with the pain meds and he's hallucinating. Bones rarely smiles for real. It's a good look on him. Jim's chest is hurting again. Did he get punched there? He can't remember. 

Bones hooks an arm around his waist and hauls him to his feet. Jim is grateful, for more than an excuse to be manhandled by Bones, because by now he's not quite sure he can feel his limbs fully.  
He limps pathetically out of the bathroom, and is surprised when Bones leads him to the bed. 

"The couch is fine." Jim argues. Bones sets him down onto the bed, hands not lingering on any part of him, tragically.  
Jim's starting to feel hazy, and he makes an embarassing whining sound when he lays all the way down. His back aches. 

"I know." Is all Bones says, but he simply looks Jim over one last time before he turns and goes to leave.  
Jim's hand has latched onto Bones's wrist without actual permission from Jim, which troubles and bothers him immensely.  
Bones stares down at his hand like it's some kind of horrible alien creature. 

"Thank you." Jim says, words slurring together sloppily. His head feels like it's underwater now, and Bones is the only thing his eyes will focus on. "Bones?" He shuts his eyes. 

"Please, don't do this again." It sounds like Bones's voice cracks, but Jim tells himself it's his own mind playing tricks. 

Jim passes out before he even sees Bones lay down on the couch. 

 

~ ~ ~ 

 

"Psst." 

If Leonard just keeps ignoring him, he tells himself, then Jim will stop kicking the back of his seat and leave him alone. It stands to reason that when a person is successfully ignored, they go away. Of course, Jim doesn't really go along with all that much of Leonard's reasoning. This time is, clearly, not going to be an exception. 

"Bones." Leonard wills himself into steel, steel that is most definately not interesting in looking back at Jim Kirk. 

"Hey." Jim's whisper grows louder, but Leonard stays perfectly still. He can no longer hear the professor's lecture over the pounding of his own blood in his ears, but he stares straight ahead anyways. 

"Bones. Leonard McCoy." Jim's whisper-yell is more insistent now, and if he doesn't shut up, even the professor's going to look over. Several other students have already cast annoyed glances. 

"What?" Leonard snaps, turning in his seat only enough to glance at Jim.  
He's sprawled in his chair like usual, giving off the impression that he's perfectly at home no matter where he is. He looks as good as ever.  
It's been almost two weeks since the bar fight, and Jim's injuries have almost dimished completely.  
He'd refused to let Leonard use an actual regenerator on most of his wounds, claiming distrust of them, though Leonard had a sneaking suspicion Jim liked the way it all made him look a big more rugged.  
Not that anything was ever truly a bad look for Jim Kirk. 

Now, he only has the soft remnants of a bruise on one cheekbone, and the bandages still on his hand.  
Leonard aches to reach for him, even here and now, in an entire classroom full of people. He swallows, and the sensation drags unpleasantly in his throat.  
It takes effort, but Leonard scowls at him. Jim smiles back. 

"Do you have any gum?" Jim asks innocently.  
Leonard grinds his teeth together. 

"I hate you." He whispers back, fierce. Jim is undeterred, because there's no sincerity in Leonard's message and they both know it. 

"Better turn around. Don't wanna get in trouble." Jim taunts.  
So Leonard does; he tears his eyes away from Jim's teasing smile and plants his eyes firmly on the holovid that's just gone up. He doesn't actually register any of what he sees on the screen. The image of Jim behind him is burned into the forefront of his mind instead. 

Jim doesn't kick his chair again, but Leonard would swear his feet are resting there, anyways. 

 

~ ~ ~ 

 

"You've only kissed two people?" 

"Jim, please-" 

"This is insane to me." Jim shakes his head. "This is crazy." 

They sit across from one another on Jim's bed.  
Jim's not sure how their conversation got here, but boy, is he glad it did.  
If there's anything that could possibly further fuel Jim's fantasies, it would have to be that Bones is actually sweetly inexperienced. Jim can show him the ropes, maybe. 

Bones barely looks up from the book he's reading on his PADD, but from his ears Jim can tell he's blushing like mad.  
It all started with Bones asking Jim, annoyed, where his mouth has been this week.  
Jim had responded with a lewd comment that Bones proceeded to ignore, before Jim directed Bones's own question back at him, and Bones slipped up in answering, "My mouth has only been two places, period."

Now, Jim's antagonizing him in true Jim Kirk fashion. 

"Yeah, I bet." Bones snorts. 

"Hey! Watch it. I just mean...Bones..." Jim trails off. 

"Seriously. Just forget it." Bones's voice is pleading now, and Jim can't help but think it's a good sound.  
When he looks up, there's a soft desperation in his face.  
Not a bad look, either.  
Jim feels kind of guilty, but mostly he finds it ridiculous that people aren't crawling all over Bones on a daily basis, let alone ever.  
Plus, the more he presses the issue, the more Bones looks flustered and sort of adorable. 

"You're practically a fumbling high schooler. This is way too good to forget." Jim grins. 

"I am not. Just aint quite a Jim Kirk." Bones's words are full of bravado but his expression says that he's two seconds from dying of embarassment. 

"But you're. This is. Bones, you're hot." Jim blurts out. 

Bones flushes, puts his face in his hands to hide it.  
Jim swallows, fights his own urge to blush. He reminds himself that it didn't really come out sounding like that anyways. Really, it was a totally normal and platonic thing to say. 

"I'm a grown person, Jim. I do not need to deal with this." He groans. 

"Fine, fine. Not my fault you probably kiss like an inexperienced nun." Jim raises an eyebrow.  
Bones looks embarassed, but covers it with his own raised eyebrow. 

"Jim, technically all nuns would be inexperienced. Do you know what a nun is? Actually, they would have zero experience." 

"And you've got barely more than that!"  
Bones looks mortified, and Jim can't help but let out a wheezing laugh. 

"Bones, man, I'm sorry. It's just that I had more than two kisses in like, grade school." 

"I said two people. Not two kisses. And, I'm not you, Jim." He points out. 

"I know that. Duh." 

"People don't trip over me like that."  
Jim himself would beg to differ, but he bites his tongue and doesn't mention it. He ignores the way his heart pounds against his ribs. 

"Girls or boys?" He asks instead.  
Bones groans. 

"Jim, just shut up, please."

"Bones... you're not a virgin, are you?" Jim's hesitant, but not so much so that he doesn't say it. Sometimes his lack of verbal filter and his curiosity get the better of him. Plus, Bones flushes and ducks his head again, so Jim thinks it was definately worth it. 

"I'm most certainly not." Bones says, defensive, and his voice and expression both look and sound so strained Jim thinks he might snap. 

"Okay. Okay, I'm sorry." Jim sighs. 

"Good. Now shut up." 

"But... Bones."  
Now Bones sighs. 

"I'm really not getting into this with you anymore." Bones's voice is tight, his body still. 

"Come on, Bones! Just, spill. Tell me something." 

"Here's something; I'm about two seconds from punching you in the mouth." He rolls his eyes, looks a little less angry despite his threatening words. 

"So that's what you're into." Jim grins. 

The response Jim gets is surprising to say the least. 

Bones scowls, and, looking simutaneously determined and angry, grabs Jim's jaw in one hand and catches his mouth in a rough kiss.  
Jim's too startled to even close his eyes.  
Bones's mouth is warm, urgent.  
It's definately not what Jim's expecting from the guy who's supposedly only been kissed a handful of times. 

He kisses Jim with expertise, his hand holding his head steady.  
Jim might be a little biased with his ridiculous amount of affection for Bones, but he's pretty sure it ranks at least in the top three best kisses he's ever had. Maybe even the best, ever, because christ, this is Bones.  
Jim barely has to do anything but remind himself to breathe. 

He hardly even has time to think, but his thoughts are mostly a jumbled up oh my god is this happening is this Bones kissing me oh my god. 

When Bones pulls away, Jim's dumbstruck. 

"How's that for inexperienced nun?" Bones is a little breathy, his face flushed, and Jim chokes because yeah, that's a good look. 

He can't remember how to properly speak, because Bones is still inches away, and his mouth is kiss swollen. From Jim's mouth. Holy shit. 

"It's... ." He squeaks out. He clears his throat. "I think you uh, split my lip." 

He brings a hand up to his mouth, which actually isn't hurting at all. It's more like a dull ache, that he's pretty sure can be easily fixed with another kiss that he is way too terrified to either ask for or initiate. 

He forces his voice to sound casual, his body language to relax, and when he looks up Bones's face it twists into something like a smirk. There's still something cloudy in his eyes; is that anxiety? Jim doesn't get a chance to tell because he's already looking away. 

Bones must be satisfied, then, because he sinks back and goes right back to reading.  
The only indication anything even happened at all is the pink flush across Bones's face that doesn't fade.  
Jim doesn't bring it up. It takes him half an hour to stop shaking. 

 

~ ~ ~ 

 

Leonard doesn't have many friends.  
He doesn't particularly count the few he has as being all that close, either. But when you're drunk enough and upset enough, he reasons that anyone is your best friend. 

Tonight it appears that the quirky kid from his Physics class, Scotty, is his best friend. 

The bar is the same dive where they got in a fight just last month. Leonard's body aches from long hours of practice surgery, but not as much as his heart.  
They're a good five or six drinks into the night when Leonard starts spilling his guts. 

"And then the kid, listen to this, Scott, he just sits there." 

"After you kissed him an' everythin'?" Scotty's accent is somehow even thicker through the alcohol, but Leonard's the one rambling, anyways. Leonard doesn't ask, but he gathers that it's probably Scottish. 

Scotty is a great listener, giving off the warm impression that he actually cares. He slides a new glass into Leonard's hand and watches him, wide eyed and interested. 

"Yes! After I... oh, god. I kissed him." 

"Ay, you didn't mean to?" Scotty's expression turns serious.

"No, I meant it. I just..." Leonard waves his hand, noncommittal. His head is a little too blurry to get too articulate right now. 

"Not quite that way." 

"Right!" Leonard swallows. "Right." 

"Well, if it's any consolation to ya, I'm sure he's had worse." 

"Thanks, Scotty." 

"Don' bring that up to him, though. Kid's sensitive 'bout that type of thing." 

"What type?" Leonard frowns into his glass. He thinks it's magically emptied itself again, but from the buzzing in his fingers, he starts to recall actually drinking it. 

"His... personal business and things." Scotty clarifies, with a strange tone to his voice. It takes Leonard's drunken brain several moments to understand what Scotty's getting at. 

"I didn't mean it like that, Scott. None of it. I didn't... oh, god." Leonard puts his face in his hands. "I didn't kiss him just cause I thought he'd let me. Jesus, Scotty." His last words are muffled, but by some miracle they're understood. 

"So you... weren't coming onto Jim jus' for the easy lay, then?" 

"No. Christ, no. I'm not... I wasn't... I can't believe I'm admitting this, but I... like him." 

"'S okay, Leonard. We all know you aren't that kind of guy." Scotty pats his shoulder, and Leonard groans.

"But does he? Does ...Jim? Know that ... I'm not like that?" He hopes all his words are coming out in the proper order. 

"Oughta ask him that." Scotty points out, blowing out a deep breath in exasperation. 

"You think he thinks that?" 

"I don't pretend to know what the damn kid is thinkin'. You shouldn't either." 

"This... sucks." Leonard muses, picking up his glass so he can more adequately frown into it. 

"Ay." Scotty's muffled response comes through his drink. "Maybe you ought to talk to him, not me." 

Leonard's way too drunk to see reason, at this point, but Scotty probably does have a point. He nods, slowly. 

Now Scotty launches off into a story about his Engineering class, and it's Leonard's turn to listen. 

 

~ ~ ~ 

 

To say he avoids him would be a vast understatement. 

Leonard goes extremely, ridiculously out of his own way for the next three days to avoid any and all possibly contact with one Jim Kirk. 

He even almost trips into a trashcan once, and another tims runs facefirst into an Andorian girl who looks two seconds away from kicking his ass before he manages to escape to his room. 

It's not that he's afraid of Jim, exactly, it's just that the last time he saw him Leonard embarassed himself so badly that he'd probably rather die than confront the situation. 

So he skips out on a few classes, walks specifically fast back to his room, and disregards his communicator notifications. 

Ironically enough, he spends all his time thinking about Jim, anyways. 

He feels stupid for kissing him. And kind of creepy, and maybe even a little pervy. It had been selfish of him, to take advantage of the situation.  
Sure, Jim had kind of been cornering him, and maybe he was even trying to coax some kind of reaction out of him. But still, Leonard was the one who'd, for some reason even he can't ration, taken the leap and actually kissed him.  
Jim hadn't really kissed back, but he hadn't quite pulled away, either. 

Leonard has no idea what the hell that's supposed to mean. 

He figures that if Jim's weirded out by him now, then that's that, and Leonard will just relive that kiss for the rest of his life and die miserable and lonely. 

He doesn't really seriously consider what might happen if Jim isn't totally weirded out, but his brain seems to think that there would be some kind of epic makeout and makeup scene.  
He hates himself for vividly conjuring up the image so quickly.

He conjures up lots of other images, too, because while he's trying to make sure Jim doesn't see him, he sees Jim four times. 

Twice in the hallway, once in the mess hall, and another time across class, when he has to show up to submit an essay. 

By the end of day three, he resigns to the fact that even just daydreaming about Jim Kirk will probably be the death of him. 

 

~ ~ ~ 

 

"He hates me. He probably wants me dead, and he hates me." Jim groans and puts his head in his hands. 

"You're being dramatic, I'm sure." Nyota points out, waving her fork with salad on the end like she's illustrating her point. 

By now, the entire lunch table knows about Jim's pathetic Bones Obsession. 

Hikaru pats his back, comforting, while Pavel tries to console him. 

"Maybe he will come around?" Pavel assures, his accented voice low and soothing. "You and Leonard seemed to be very good friends." 

"Thanks, Pavel." Jim says, to his untouched lunch. Well, not really untouched, but definately uneaten, because he's currently prodding it with a fork. Some kind of a salad. He can't help but wonder what Leonard would say, and then mentally kicks himself because wow, can he think of nothing else? 

"He kissed you. That counts for something, right?" Ben offers, smiling weakly. Jim hates to be mean right to any of them, because they've got nothing to do with it and just want to help. His first instinct is to be harsh, so he bites back a retort and forces a smile back at him, and he must look even more pathetic than he thinks, because even Gaila winces. 

"He hates me." Jim repeats, and lets his forehead fall to the table. in front of his food. He doesn't care if he's being dramatic anymore, like Nyota pointed out. Surely, the situation calls for dramatics. 

Sure, Leonard had kissed him, as Ben pointed out, and it has been glorious, on Jim's end at least.  
But it was practically a joke, and a situation Jim had goaded him into anyways. And then he'd acted pissed about the whole thing, and has been cold shouldering Jim ever since.  
Which, yeah, Jim's having a hard time reading it as anything but negative. Hell, he hasn't even seen Leonard for two solid days. 

Jim assumes that something in either the kiss or his own behavior leading up to it gave his feelings away, and now that Leonard knows about Jim's big fat crush, he's disgusted and doesn't want to see him. This is the most logical conclusion, of course. Jim's gone through every other possible scenario. 

His brain has even gotten outlandishly creative, wondering if Leonard was abducted by an alien spacecraft and is currently being held hostage. Or maybe he accidentally got locked in a storage closet. 

But, when he catches a glimpse of him on the far end of one of their shared classes the next day, all of these suggestions are shattered.  
Now he knows for sure that Leonard's avoiding him, and he can properly mourn the loss of his newest, closest, hottest, greatest-almost-potential-boyfriend-he's-had friend.  
Yeah, he figures he's basically screwed. 

 

~ ~ ~ 

 

Pavel Chekov is a lot more brash and insistent than Jim gave him credit for initially.  
He'd always come across as much more shy and gentle, but with the help of a bottle of vodka and a Linguistics assignment, Jim's starting to think he really got the wrong impression. They've studied together twice before, but without alcohol in the equation. Maybe that's why Pavel's so much more animated tonight. 

As with all of his conversations lately, Pavel had asked softly of Bones and apparently Jim's gruff "Why don't you ask him?" Was the wrong answer. Now Pavel is a picture of exasperation, huffing and waving his hands to illustrate his opinion of Jim's methods. 

"It is stupid!" Pavel exclaims. His eyes are bright and round, framed with dark eyelashes, and he's staring directly at Jim. He gestures with his hands widely, a still glowing PADD in one. "It is very silly!" 

"What do you suggest, then?" Jim frowns at him from where he sits on his own desk. Pavel's pacing in front of him. He stood from his chair when he got on a tangent about potential time travel, and has been a ball of energy since. Jim's sleepy from booze, and having a hard time keeping up. 

"Have you not thought to speak to him?" Jim's surprised Pavel's so coherent, given the amount of alcohol he's just ingested. He himself feels a bit lightheaded. But Pavel seems as clear as he did earlier in class, the only thing impeding his speech being his accent. 

Jim wonders vaguely if he should feel guilty for supplying alcohol to Pavel; the kid's probably only 18, but Jim doesn't know for sure.  
But by now he's too drunk, sad and pathetic to care anyways. 

"Sure. I thought of it." 

"And you did not try to?" 

"Look, kid, I appreciate this and everything but-" 

"You are being stupid, letting him go like this. Jim." Pavel's tone is gravely serious now, and he's stopped in front of Jim.  
Jim swallows. 

"With all due respect, Jim. Talk to him. You must talk to Leonard." 

Jim's recieving wisdom on the last front he ever expected it from; the freshman that he's only ever had school related conversations with. Now even he seems to be able to read Jim's distress like an open book.  
Jim's foggy brain finally pieces something into place. 

"Did Nyota put you up to this?" 

"She told me that it might be good for you to speak to someone else." Pavel admits, and though his cheeks turn scarlet, he keeps his expression soft. "I care, too, Jim." He adds. 

Jim would have to be absolutely coldhearted not to melt at Pavel's reassuring smile. 

"Thanks." He says, sincere. 

"Do you want me to finish the assignment?" Pavel asks, slow, like he's unsure of what Jim will say or do next. 

"Nah. I've got it. Go and get some sleep." At Jim's words, he moves to leave. "And, Pavel?" 

"Yes?" 

"Thank you." 

Pavel beams, a smile that animates all of his features, before he slips out Jim's door. 

Jim crawls into bed, feeling a strange mix of appreciation and gratitude for the friends he has, and a terrible longing in his chest for the one he's losing. 

 

~ ~ ~ 

 

Jim can't stand it anymore.  
He spends the morning skipping classes, alternating between pacing his room, and groaning into his hands.  
Something has to give, somewhere, he thinks. Before he breaks. 

Hell, Bones won't even respond to his messages about assignments now, and Jim knows he's read them. 

He's not usually one for assessing situations thoroughly before he jumps in, but he spends a solid hour considering the different ways a confrontation could go. 

One; he tells Bones he has feelings for him, and he laughs in his face. Jim's pride is wounded, but their friendship might be salvaged. 

Two; Jim tells him, he feels exactly the same, and lots of kissing ensues. Jim knows he's taking liberties with this one, but hey, it's his fantasy. 

In a third scenario, he tells Bones, and he's uncomfortable, maybe even disgusted with Jim, and their friendship dies and so does a big piece of Jim. 

Jim prefers the second option, even if it's far fetched. 

There is, of course, a myriad of other possible outcomes that Jim vaguely considers, some in which Bones professes his own undying love, and some in which Bones goes so far as to break his nose. 

But, as all good experiments go, Jim will have to collect more data before he can draw his conclusion.  
He holds his breath most of the way to Bones's room. 

He knocks, the old fashioned way, rather than pressing the button to notify Bones. 

There's a moment of silence then, and Jim thinks of bailing. Before he gets a chance, the door opens. 

Bones is in uniform, though it's clear he's not in class, because he's here instead. He looks tired, like something's been wearing on him. Jim sympathizes. 

"We need to talk." Jim says, resolute. Bones looks physically pained, but he gestures weakly for him to step inside. 

He's been in this room what feels like a hundred times, but this time, he feels horribly unwelcome. He swallows. 

"About?" Bones walks across his room to the window on the far side, and squints against the sun. 

"You're avoiding me." 

"I'm busy, Jim." Bones turns, pinches the bridge of his nose, like being in Jim's presence for a meager five minutes has already caused a headache. 

"Are you kidding me? Busy doing what, hiding out? You've been ignoring me for days now." 

Jim steps closer, steels himself.  
"If you don't like me, then fine. If I annoy you, if I just bother you, I'll leave you alone. If this is about the stupid kiss-" 

"It is not...about the kiss." Bones's eyes are fixed to the floor. "Not everything is about you, Jim." 

"Then what the hell, man? You're the one who kissed me. It was one time! It was a joke!" Jim tries not to sound so angry, but his words come out rash and irritated anyways. 

"Just leave me alone!" Bones's voice is dangerously sharp now, at that edge between being angry and just being upset. 

"Fine! Is that what you want? Then maybe I'll fucking get lost!" Jim throws his hands up. 

"Then do." Bones tells him, voice strained. He's staring out the window again. 

"You're like talking to a goddamn wall, you know that?"  
Bones is silent, as all good walls are. He stares into the floor. 

"And it's like you're blind, too, to how I'm constantly right in front of you, and you won't even look at me!" 

"I can't." Bones snaps. 

"What?" Jim's heart is beating so hard, he's sure his ribs are bruising. 

"I said, I can't fucking look at you." But he does, now, his eyes sharp, his mouth twisted. "I can't stand looking at you every day knowing I can't have you. Happy?" 

Jim can't help his mouth falling open in shock.  
Bones's gaze softens, but only for a moment before he turns to stone again. His jaw clenches, like he's stopping himself from saying anything more.  
He looks indignant and embarassed all at once, his cheeks pink and his eyes shining.  
He also looks flighty, like he's five seconds from bailing on Jim and the whole situation that they've just opened up.  
Jim's mind is racing.  
He catalogues the situation.  
Bones is here, he's spilling his guts, and Jim is too tongue tied to even say something. 

He wills himself to speak. 

"You can." Jim blurts. 

Confusion crosses Bones's face. 

"What?" He croaks out. 

"You said you can't have me. But... you can. Have me." Jim's heart is racing. He crosses the distance between them before he can talk himself down. 

Now it's Bones's turn to look flustered.  
They're about a foot apart, and Jim can finally fully appreciate the way that he's a few inches taller.  
He's itching with anticipation.  
Bones still won't meet his eyes.  
His frown falls, his face going slack in surprise and his eyebrows raising. 

"Jim..." 

Jim doesn't let him finish; instead he takes his face in his hands and kisses him, hard enough for it to mean something, but not hard enough to crack teeth.  
It's good, just like Jim knew it would be.  
It's not much different from the surprise kiss Bones planted on him last week, but their roles are reversed.  
Bones is warm, his mouth as soft as it looks.  
Bones is mostly still beneath him, but when Jim pulls away, his cheeks are pink. 

"Jim." He repeats, breathless.  
Jim sighs, blissful. 

"I've had a thing for you since we met. I've been putting out signals since day one. Are you blind?" 

"Day one, huh?" Bones cracks a small smile, and Jim returns it with a grin. 

"Yes. Day one. Why else would I befriend the ruggedly handsome new kid?" 

"I'm not a new kid, I keep tellin' you. Just cause you don't know someone doesn't mean they're new." 

"New to me." Jim trails his fingers over Bones's soft mouth, smiles gently. Bones just watches him. 

"Then get familiar." Bones challenges, his breath warm across Jim's hand. 

"You really didn't hate me, this whole time?" Jim asks. 

"God, yes. I hated you. You're so goddamn annoying. But...I've also been panting after you for weeks. Jim, I literally kissed you last week." 

"I thought that was... It was just..." 

"It was hardly platonic." Bones rolls his eyes. 

"Oh. Oh yeah?" Jim grins. 

"Yeah. You're such a dipshit I didn't think you'd ever notice. I planted one on you and you still acted like we were buddies." 

"Well, take note that scowling at someone isn't exactly top rated flirtation. Neither is hiding out in your room like a hermit for a week."  
Bones actually scowls, and it only proves Jim's point. 

"Well, you flirt with everybody. How the hell was I supposed to tell?" 

"You sure know how to make a guy feel special." Jim cocks his head. 

"Don't get a lot of practice with the sweet talk." 

"You don't go around kissing lots of boys?" Jim taunts. 

"You kissed me." 

"You kissed me first. Also, that's not an answer."  
Bones flushes and ducks his head, mutters something. 

"What was that?" Jim brushes his fingers up over Bones's ears, then back down to settle on his neck. Bones looks up. 

"I said no, okay? Jesus christ, Jim, do you ever quit?" Jim can't help but think that the heavy breathing, messy hair and flushed cheeks are his best look yet. 

"No." He smiles sweetly, kisses his cheek. 

Bones just stares at him for a few moments. His eyes trace Jim's features until Jim starts to wonder if he looks weird or something. 

"What the hell?" Bones breathes, wondering. 

"Hm?" Jim lets his hands fall to Bones's shoulders, appreciating the way he's solid beneath his hands. 

"Why didn't you say somethin'? This whole time, we coulda-" 

"Guess I liked the anticipation." Jim hums, ghosts a kiss at the corner of his mouth.  
Bones leans in, slow. Jim sighs. 

Jim kisses him like he's starving for it, because in theory, he is. He's never done the whole pining thing, and now he knows why. It's complete torture, to want someone like this. It's also complete bliss, to have them, after all of it.  
He's imagined this a hundred different ways, but nothing compares to really doing it. 

He's even replayed the kiss from last week so many times his head ached from it. But it's different, with feelings on the table this time. It's honest now.  
Bones matches his desperation, but he also matches his affection in soft brushes of his shaking fingers over Jim's face. 

"Is this real?" Bones asks, voice rough against Jim's mouth.  
He clutches at Jim's face like he's afraid he'll disappear. 

"Doesn't it feel real?" Jim asks him, but he finds it hard to keep up his usual bravado when Bones is staring at him like that. 

"Feels like a dream."  
Bones sounds so wistful that something twists in Jim's chest, and he's crowding him into another kiss. 

"You're a sap." Jim says between kisses. "I knew it. I knew you'd be a big fucking sap." 

"I'm not." Bones pulls back just enough to frown, though it doesn't reach his eyes.

"Sure." Jim laces his fingers behind Bone's neck, and presses close to rest their foreheads together. "Don't worry, I won't tell anybody." 

Bones hides a smile against Jim's shirt. They're quiet for a minute. 

"So..." He pulls back enough to look at Jim. He's blushing, again, and Jim's overwhelmed with affection. He traces his fingers over his jaw. 

"Hm?" 

"It's nothing." Bones pulls him in for another kiss, before Jim can ask.  
The next few minutes crawl by, time translated into warm kisses and touches. Jim feels an ache in his chest that he can't identify as anything but want.  
There's silence between them, but laced in that silence is a mutual understanding, both amazed, wondering: You like me, too. 

"So, are we boyfriends or what?" Jim asks against his mouth. 

Bones pulls back, stares at him with something Jim can't quite read. Jim smiles, sheepish, and starts to play it off. 

"Sorry, I was ju-" Bones cuts him off with another kiss. 

"Is that a yes?" He grins again. 

"Is that what you want?" Bones's eyes bore into him, and Jim swallows. 

"Yeah." His voice is rougher than he intends it. "Yeah, that's what I want." He stares at his hands on Bones's chest. 

"Then, yeah." Bones's fingers tilt his chin up to meet his eyes. "If you want to be, then yeah, we're boyfriends, you big idiot." 

Jim smiles, and Bones smiles back.


End file.
